Restless
by The Mighty Trubbish
Summary: This world is boring. It's the same thing day after day, meaningless conversations and interactions with equally meaningless people. Although, I'm not much better; I gratefully hide in the shadow of my brother and leech off the hospitality of my mother making me the same as the people I hate. I want to change, no, I need to change myself and this world. An SYOC Pokemon Fanfiction.
1. Boredom

**AN: Uh, yeah, so I was sorta in retirement because I was kinda fed up with my writing ability, but Sonoftherigod sent me a message and restored a little of my own self-faith. I've updated this chapter and the second chapter with a ton of new-ish content and I recommend re-reading because the story is going in a different route than was first intended. I'm a freshman in college so updates will be whenever I can. Uh, redo of chapter three will be soon-ish. Still accepting OCs.**

A gentle breeze drifts by like a stranger, it's refreshing and leaves nothing behind except a simple "howdy do," warm sunlight shines in between a canopy of jade leafs, casting a hue of emerald along the soft and earthy soil. I rejoice in the cool and simple feel of grass cusped in my hand, once again I relax my head onto a worn and tender root. Easing into it, I have no direction to look but up. Above me is the outstretched limbs of a hundred year old oak, various avian species hop and glide from branch to branch, chirping their individual songs in joyous melody.

"This world… This world is boring," I mutter under my breath. I'm sick of it, I'm sick of all of it.

I can feel the anger beginning to bubble in my chest, it's an uncertain and confused rage that makes me want to clench my fist and kick out my foot in violent frustration, but as if on cue my phone blasts its obnoxious alarm; I sit up and turn it off, forgetting my anger for the time being. I take another look around me, at the pleasant scenery of my own hidden grove: the trees, the flora, the shrubbery, and low glow of sun and plethora of shade, a simple yet peaceful beauty.

"Boring," I sigh.

I drag my feet, making my way along the beaten path in-between the tall grass and low bushes into a dense forest of close knit trees. I take in a deep breath and enjoy the fresh smell of pine needles and the remnants of a mid-summers rain.

I haven't seen much wildlife today, the multiple species have seemed to have disappeared, except for the few bird pokémon that litter the branches above. However the sound of ground dwellers aimlessly rambling about through the forest between the trunks of the trees is absent. I'm surprised that I can't even catch a glimpse of a bidoof, whose species overpopulates the surrounding forests and groves.

Where had they gone?

It couldn't be because of the approaching winter, it's June for Christ sake. Perhaps some natural phenomenon? If that sort of thing happens to bidoof, they aren't the most naturally inclined pokémon after all. I shake off the creeping notion of worry and try to think of something else, choosing to ignore the shiver that goes down my spine. I break from the dense forest and walk into the outskirts of town.

Twinleaf isn't a bad place to grow up, the small secluded country town is ideal for raising children and building a family. Everyone knows everyone else and lifetime friends are decided almost at birth. I remember the countless summers of food festivals, playing until the sun went down, chasing the glowing rears of volbeat at night, and spending endless hours down by the creek trying to fish up some magikarp. It was peaceful, monotonously so.

I headed towards home, it is a simple two story house painted brown just like every other on the block. I reach the door, but I am stopped by my neighbor. Her small frame physically stands in between me and the door; where she had come from I have no idea.

"Hey Al!" She greets with a smile.

"What do you want?" I ask cutting pleasantries.

She puffs out her cheek in a pout, "No need to be rude, I just wanted to talk."

"Talk about what exactly?" I ask. I don't really care about the topic, but last time we "talked" she got drunk in my living room and ranted about how men are pigs. I don't want to go through that a seventh time.

She brushed a curl of her long chocolate brown hair aside and offered me a sweet smile, making sure her brown eyes met my own.

"Well there is a party tonight at Lake Verity Beach and I was wondering if you wanted to go," she says as she leans against my door and paws her foot on the patio boards.

"No thanks," I say brushing past her making for the door, but she stops me with her hand.

"I don't think you understood me, will you go to the party tonight with me as your date?" She asks.

"I understood you, I just don't want to go," I say emotion absent from my voice.

"And why not?" Her smile now replaced with a frown and her hands straight to her hips.

"Getting drunk and then do nothing but be drunk with other drunks does not sound like a good time to me," I say.

She gives me a glare, "It's not like you have anything better to do."

"I have work," I say.

"You can work tomorrow," she argues.

"I can work tonight and tomorrow," I say without losing a beat. She lets out a groan and stomps her foot on the ground.

"Will you do it for me as a favor?" She asks, a last ditch attempt to drag me with her to the party.

However, her persistence wasn't actually to get me to go in particular I assumed, I was probably at the bottom of her list of people to go out on a date with. She most likely has ulterior motives.

"No," I say pushing past her and open the door to my house. I wasn't surprised that she followed me inside.

"Albert? Is that you?" my mom calls out from somewhere in the house, I can already hear her footsteps echoing from down the hall.

"Yeah mom," I call back.

"Hello Mrs. Russel!" My neighbor calls out from behind me. My mom walks into the living room, she is a small lady with short brown hair that falls to her neck and warm and friendly brown eyes.

She wipes her wet hands on her apron as she talks, "Oh hello Samantha. What brings me the pleasure of your visit this evening?"

Samantha smiles her crooked smile of undoubtedly vicious evil, but I speak before she has a chance to, "She just came by to say hi, she has to go though, busy day." I push her towards the door and manage to get her into the doorway.

"Mrs. Russel, Al doesn't want to take a pretty girl like me out on a date!" She exclaims. I push her farther out and slam the door shut. That damn Samantha knows my mom's weak point.

"Just ignore her, she's just crazy. I'm going to get ready for work," I say rushing past my mother; I practically sprint up the stairs to escape her glare. My mother hadn't heeded my words, since I could hear the opening and closing of the front door along with the customary, "Hello." I let out a puff of air in disapproval, this wasn't going to be worth the trouble.

I push open the door to my room and toss the contents of my pockets onto my bed, a pack of gum, some crumpled up cash, and my phone. I proceed my way to my own private bathroom, peeling of my plain black tee before doing so. I stop however before entering, a neatly wrapped gift sits tall on my desk next to it is a card. I toss my shirt in the general direction of my hamper and quickly work my hands around the wrapping, shredding it to pieces, uncovering the white box underneath. I easily open it and pull out the contents.

Surrounded by glass, under an artificial light, sitting on a pillow, rests a large egg. It's shell is generic tan with blotches of navy blue here and there, its unmistakably a pokemon egg. I didn't have to read the card to know who it was from, it had to be my brother.

Within the card was a brief note, it read:

_Hey bro! One of my pokemon recently had this egg. I figured you wouldn't mind taking care of it for me. Hahaha. _

_Much love, _

_Barry. _

_P.S. It should hatch any day now. _

I rolled the note up into a ball and tossed it into a nearby waste basket, my brother has always done things like this. He just assumes I have nothing better to do than raise an egg and always acts on any damn idea that pops in his head. Of course he is right about me having nothing to do, but still he is a little asshole.

I let out a sigh deciding that I might as well just hatch it, maybe I can sell it for some quick cash later or something. I give it another glance over, the little bastard could of at least told me what pokemon it would hatch into. My thoughts drifted to my younger brother. The hyperactive blond left three years ago with his buddy to be pokemon trainers and he seems to be making a name for himself, both of them actually.

Last I heard, my brother's friend is on track to being the champion of Sinnoh, having taken down the first two elite four members and currently tracking down the third. It is strange to think about the silent boy that used to sit patiently next to my brother as he raged about some money making scheme. I never thought he would amount to anything honestly, just kind of fade away into the background like me.

Barry, last I heard, was trying his hand at the battle frontier and apparently doing fairly well, from what I've seen on TV from time to time he seems to be quite skilled. I wonder if he has battled father yet. That's just a whole other can of worms, I shake the thought out of my head and make my way to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. My body is uniform, my face is big, my shoulders are wide, my chest is puffed out, my hands are like baseball mitts, and my stomach is round. I'm muscular, when I flex, but when I don't my body just looks soft.

I run a hand through my dark black hair. It is perhaps a little overgrown, being its usual untamable self with random knots of hair and spiked cowlicks yet somehow is able to fall over my eyes like a drape. I look into my own dull brown eyes and frown in disappointment. Unlike my brother, I've done nothing with my life. Not that I really wanted to, but in retrospect I could have done a little more, like gone to college and eventually become an accountant.

I turn on the shower and jump in, having peeled of the rest of my clothes prior. I work at the local pokemart as a store clerk, I make minimum wage and am there for about five hours every day, every week. I currently have 500 poke in my bank and owe my mom 3000 in rent. My life isn't what I expected it to be, but then again I hadn't had much expectations.

The water is warm and nice on my skin.

I'm not jealous of my brother for his success, I just wish that I did something to be better. I don't care that I live in his shadow, especially in the eyes of my parents. It doesn't matter to me that he was born with all the talent or that my parents prefer him over me, I really don't care. The pressure to be something is just so overwhelming and I'm glad I don't have to deal with that bullshit, I don't plan to be anything and am perfectly content with that. My thoughts drift to the horrible conversation going on downstairs this very moment.

Samantha will have my mom around her finger, and ergo have me around her finger as well since my mom basically owns me. I really don't want to go to the beach, I don't generally like other people, but I feel like it won't be my choice soon. I turn off the shower and exit wet, wrapping a towel around my body as I walk. Quickly I get dressed, khaki pants, a plain white shirt, and a blue apron.

I suppose it is time to face the inevitable. I look at the egg one more time and figure it is good where it's at. I leave my room and make my way downstairs. My mom sits on the couch wearing an obvious scowl, a plus is that Samantha is gone.

"You're going to that party," are the first words that come out of her mouth.

"No," I say with a steady breath. My mom looks me in the eye, she is a terrifying woman, but I am able to return the death stare by firming my footing and squaring my shoulders. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out with a huff.

"You're going to that party," she says not willing to back down.

"I don't want to," I say.

"How do you expect to meet women?" She asks. Here we go.

"I'm not looking to meet women right now," I say.

"Well I want grandchildren and you're eighteen for Christ's sake! You aren't on an adventure like your brother and frankly are doing nothing else with your life! So why not meet some girls and give me grandchildren?" She snaps.

"Because I'm eighteen and don't want a kid," I say also standing my ground.

"Do you hear yourself?" She cries.

"Excuse me? Do **you** hear **yourself**? You just told your eighteen year old son to go get a girl pregnant," I practically scream back.

"And what is wrong with that? You spend too much time at home being a bum, maybe if you get a girl pregnant you'll get some sense of responsibility in you! Don't you want to live your life?" She scolds.

"Yes, I want to live my life! Without you constantly meddling in it, how is getting drunk and partying living? And why do I need to be responsible?" I ask.

"You think I'm meddling? Hows this for meddling? You either go to the party with Samantha at eight or you move out!" My mom wins the argument.

"Fine," I snap at her with venom. My mom is unreasonable, but she means well in her head. It's the thought that counts I guess. Without another word, I leave and venture the short five minute walk to the pokemart.

The blue roofed building is new to Twinleaf, having been built last year for access to any trainers in the area. I found this strange, since trainers would have to travel out of their ways, and I mean way out of their ways, to even visit Twinleaf. Especially since the town's main attraction, Lake Verity, can be visited without the need to actually visit our small town. Whatever, employment is employment.

I work behind the main counter and my responsibilities include greeting customers, if there is any, and to restock the shelves before I leave. It is a good gig, most of the time no one comes in, so usually I get to read or do nothing. Both are pleasant, especially since I'm getting paid for it.

I kick my legs up on the counter and balance the stool underneath my ass on one leg. I pull out one of my books from within the counter and resume from the last place I read.

The book is interesting, instead of a normal writing format, it consists a series of fictional letters that the main character sends to an anonymous person. The character offers a fresh perspective on what it is like to be different and unnoticed, always noticing the falsities in other peoples lives and his own and trying to make sense of it all. He suffers from his own introverted-ness and desperately wants to shed it off and find a place in his crazy messed up world.

I've read it at least twenty times.

"Good book?" a girl asks. I hadn't noticed her come in, which is strange since she would've had to walked right past me and I usually don't miss people. I set down the book and eye the customer curiously. She isn't what you would call normal, in a small town like Twinleaf anyways.

For starters her hair is silver, and I don't mean a fancy gray or even the aged depressed hair that most elderly people have. I mean it was like she had actually melted down silver and made a wig out of it, but it looks too soft, glossy, and wavy to be actual metal. It certainly isn't natural, but it almost fooled me.

Her skin is pale and her eyes are an abstract red, if my suspicions are right they are most likely contacts. She is shorter than me, but tall for a girl, thin, but muscular. The definite signs of a trainer. Her choice of clothes can only be described as open, her shirt is cut high to stop only an inch under her bosom, exposing her belly button, which is pierced.

Her jeans are just as special, one pant leg had been completely cut off, and the pant leg had been drawn on with a sharpie. I find her interesting, and I think that is the point frankly.

"It's great," I say snapping it shut and stuffing it away. She places all of her intended purchases on the counter: Twenty pokeballs, ten potions, and a protein bar; I begin running them under the scanner.

"So, where're you from?" I ask starting up some meaningless chit chat.

"Castelia city," she says bland and uninterested. That explains the clothes and hair, Castelia is like a hive for that type of fashion.

"What brings you to town?" I ask.

She gives me an uninterested look, cocking back her eyebrow.

"I came to see the lake," she says. I knew the answer, but I figured I'd ask to be friendly. There is no other reason to visit Twinleaf.

"Your total is 7050 poke," I say, finishing up our brief meeting. She hands me a pile of neat bills of exact cash, grabs her things, and leaves. With nothing to do I rest back into my stool and being to read again.

Eight o'clock comes fast.

I got off work early and shut down the mart; I'm early enough to make it home, argue with my mom one more time, lose, and get changed. Samantha arrives on time to my dismay, but I guess I can't turn back now. As if that would've been a choice at this point.

I loosen the tie around my neck, it is a bright teal, and pops compared to my black shirt. My mom had insisted on me wearing it, I don't like ties. I wonder if the guy who came up with ties was trying to hang himself, but looked in the mirror and decided that this was style.

Samantha grabs my arm and hoists me away, so that we could walk in silence for thirty minutes to the lake. We hear the music before seeing anything, it is some horrible hip hop pop crap sensation. The party consists of a grand total of fifty or so young adults, all around my age, the oldest being twenty and the youngest fifteen. I wonder if that Castelia girl is here.

Samantha drags me over to a group of boys, one of which is her ex-boyfriend, Patrick. Patrick is a young attractive blond that knows he is attractive so he uses the advantage to try and fuck every female with a pulse. That is all I know about Patrick really.

"Hello Patrick," Samantha smiled. Patrick offered her a nod and sent a glare in my direction. I took it and offered one of my own; a face that says I don't give a fuck about you, trademark pending.

"Who's the stiff?" Patrick asks.

"My boyfriend," Samantha starts, but I cut her off.

"I'm not your boyfriend," I say. She elbows me in the ribs, it was a laughable intent. She is too small to do any damage, it felt like a tickle.

"He's a friend," she says.

"We aren't friends," I say, she hits me in the ribs again. Still doesn't hurt.

"We're neighbors," she puffs out with a lost smile. Patrick looks at me with a questionable look, he is too stupid to understand what is going on. I guess that years of drinking, smoking, and humping isn't good for the brain.

"She brought me here to make you jealous," I say blank. Patrick gives Samantha a look of confusion as she tries to not seethe in anger. I don't get her problem, I saved us time by cutting all the useless chit-chat that would eventually lead to her ditching me to go home with Patrick anyways. This way she can just do it now and save me the trouble of a boring conversation with these meat sacks.

"I'm going to get a soda," I say before walking away from the group. There isn't much to choose from in the cooler, most of the beverages are alcoholic and the only soda I could find was a Sprite; of course I'd be stuck with the lamest drink of all time. I grab it and walk away from the party goers, who are currently humping each other on the beach to music, call it dancing if you will.

I find a small grassy area and rest my head back against a tree so I can look out at the lake, the water is still and calm.

Earth must be purgatory, the monotonous boredom that wreaks havoc among the surface is enough to prove my point, the people of this planet are brainwashed into doing the same thing for the rest of their lives and following what others do instead of taking risks to change. I can't say I am much different, I do the same thing, but I can blame it on my nature and the nature of this world.

I wonder what Heaven and Hell would be like, if there is a Heaven or Hell. Maybe the reason we can't really perceive these places or ideas or whatever, is because we are a product of our environment, and our conforming mindset can't even begin to contemplate.

In an instant the world around me exploded. Human debris flew into the air, arms, legs, and who knows what else. Each landing in pools of their own blood, fleshy bits slapping against the now drenched red sand. They had died in a flash with no visible source of the explosion that ripped them to shreds.

For a moment, the surviving few stare in blank awe, but eventually fall into panic and fill the air with various shrieks. They scramble for the tree line and the path towards town in dumb horror, I watch as a boy is lifted into the air by some unseen being, his limbs are stretched as far as they can go by some unseen force, it tears him apart in five directions causing sickening snaps and cracks to sing out through the carnage. What's left of the body drops to the ground adding to the now piling dead.

The lake water rockets upwards in a pillar, killing the once glassy waters calm. Tons upon tons of water crashes down on the few alive still near the lake's edge, crushing them and flooding the beach in the process. And from the pillar emerged a small figure that shook the air with god-like energy.

I hear a cry of panic and fear and turn to see Samantha hanging over Patrick, or what used to be Patrick. He is like the rest, another pile of unidentifiable bloody flesh. She wails her sorrow and fear and pity and anger in a single desperate scream, but it comes to an abrupt end when her head takes a fast and nasty turn to the right.

The figure hovers above the water's edge, watching the carnage unfold, the being seems pleased with itself. I can't shake the sense that I've seen this monster before.

Twin gray tails hang from its small and round body, its skin is a sickly gray and leathery. Its head is larger than its body with four pink furred antennae sprouting from it and drapes over a ruby like jewel embedded in its skull.

A shiver goes down my spine, I know why it seems so familiar. It's the Mespirt, yes "the" as in singular. A god-like pokemon that is said to protect the lake and all those who inhabit around it. I don't think it is really doing a good job.

I feel the bile rear its ugly head in my throat, and soon I can't control myself. I vomit until my stomach is empty; all that remains on the beach is death and blood stained sand, Oh God, I haven't seen so much red in my life.

My face is hot, I hadn't realized I was crying. I look at our protector and anger swells itself in my body, it is involuntary. I have no idea where it could have possibly came from, but it was the angriest I have ever been. It was like I was being provoked and I had no control of my body.

I find myself screaming, "Why would you do this!?"

The Mesprit warps and is in front of me, fear takes place of anger in an instant. The pokemon in front of me relishes in it. I meet its cold golden eyes and a splitting headache brings me to my knees. Images flood through my head, destroyed buildings, mass graves, dead children and fallen soldiers; I can hear the screams of these countless people, each a scream of anger, fear, and sorrow, and in that moment I know I am screaming like them.

I can't control it, that monster is putting them there; It is too much to handle, the pain is now searing, as if the beast had begun to rip my brain apart. I shut down, and darkness begins to overtake my mind and everything begins to blur.

"This world is boring."


	2. Denial

I read a story once about a man who hated his neighbor. He hated his neighbor so much that many times he had fantasized about killing him, and despite how many times I read the short story I couldn't understand why. Eventually the man killed his neighbor and hid his body in a barrel of wine. I definitely don't know why he killed his neighbor, granted he was a pompous douche, but I don't think that just warrants killing someone. Actually, what gives us the right to kill someone at all? Is there a right, or a situation that permits murder?

I wonder.

My first conscious thoughts revolved around the spiked pain that seemed to echo throughout my body and pulse from my skull. My next few thoughts wondered where I was, that is when I remembered, it all came back to me at once: severed limbs, cries of terror, blood, so much blood, and Samantha's neck suddenly doing a three-sixty.

My stomach had found more contents for me to throw up; the beach is now deserted, crumpled and mangled bodies lay in a strange mud of blood infused sand. I stumble over to Samantha's body, she looks like her normal self, except for the elephant in the room. Her small frame, her trendy clothes, her pale skin, her brown eyes, and long curly brown hair. Her collarbone seems to jut against the inside of her skin, stretching it, to a point that it might just rip. Her lips are open in a half scream of anger and another half shock, matching the glazed over look in her eyes. I push her body off of the slush under her and close her eyes like they do in the movies, symbolizing eternal sleep. But it doesn't look the same, her head is in too odd an angle.

The slush is just a mesh of body, as if the person it had once been had been turned inside out and ripped apart simultaneously. I inspect one of the arms, through the fleshy consistency of muscle and skin I can see the pure white of his bone. It hadn't been a clean separation, in fact, from all the splintering and shrapnel of bone in his arm it seemed like it had blown up from inside the marrow.

"Patrick," I mumble. My body is in shock and I can't stop the shivers that run up and down my spine. I take in a deep and long breathe, even the air tastes of blood.

Why am I alive? Out of all these people, why am I the only one still alive? Why? I was definitely going to die, I felt it in the creature. It desperately wanted to kill me, and I was in so much pain I wished it just would. And then I would be free from the pain, the loneliness, the boredom, the obligation, everything. Why hadn't it killed me?

No, why am I disappointed that it didn't?

They say the deepest and darkest emotions of your life are brought out by life or death situations, and how you react is who you really are, I hadn't bought it. I had thought that I knew who I was, especially when shit hit the fan, a cowering wimp asking for death wasn't exactly what I pictured. I wasn't going to pretend to be some action hero or some crazy shit like that, but I thought I'd handle myself with more grace.

No matter how hard I tried fighting back my tears, they just came rushing, and I sat down. I sat down on a beach and cried. I sat down on a beach littered with dead bodies and cried. I sat down on a beach, soaked in blood from all the dead bodies, next to my neighbor whose neck had been snapped and boyfriend had been blown up from the inside out.

And I cried.

I held myself there and placed my head between my knees and just let the tears pour. I let my fear take over me and I pity myself. Not those who had died, but myself. For being in this situation and wanting to die and not wanting to die at the same time. For being surrounded by my dead neighbors and peers whom I had known all my life. I pitied myself for pitying myself. And all I want is for it to stop.

I hear screams, at first I think they are just in my head, but they get louder and more panicked as time progressed, then explosive snaps and cracks fill the still air with noise. The Mesprit must have moved on, being done with its rampage here. I look over the surrounding tree tops, smoke rises in a single and giant column. It's coming from town.

The people who I had grown up with, the people I loved but hadn't realized, are in danger. Yet, I couldn't move. My body stayed weighted to the ground, as if all my weight had condensed into a small point and then pitted itself in my stomach, I can't move. I don't want to move. Even if there was something for me to do, someone to help, I won't do it. I don't want to die like they will, like cattle ready for the slaughter.

Isn't it strange how easily we can switch?

"I'm sorry mom, I'm so sorry," I cried into my arm already writing her off as dead. The woman that had raised me, the woman I love dearly, and I had already decided she was a lost cause.

At some point I had fallen asleep.

I woke up feeling hollow and cold; the weight that had been pushing me down was gone, but left stress in my body, I am still shaking. Standing up, I look around me, morning had come and with it came a settled thick white fog that clung close to the ground, and it almost hid the bodies. The morning sky is overcast, solemn gray clouds drift softly in the light breeze with their swollen bellies filled to the brim with water, threatening rain.

My world felt gray, if colors could be feelings, my mind was at a middle ground. The world I thought I knew, the world I thought I hated, changed, into something worse. I drag my feet and walk slowly on the familiar path back to town, the same path I used to trek almost daily as a child. Except this path is somehow different, and I fear it will take me somewhere that was never my home.

I walk, numb, conscious of my own consciousness and not much else. Definitely not the broken crumpled bodies that lay dead in the grass, or the smell of burning meat, definitely not flesh. Definitely.

Twinleaf is foreign to me, like some alien planet that had once looked like my home, felt like my home, but was just so foreign at the same time. Maybe I mean an alternate reality, because this is how I felt, it couldn't be real.

A bad acid trip. Except I hadn't taken acid, ever.

"Maybe someone slipped it into my drink," I mumble to myself, only partially aware of Ms. Sawyer from down the street's body bent awkwardly against the fence post. No, not bent. _Impaled._

Fire had plagued the old houses and brought them down as fast as the flu, smoke curled into the air and clung softly to the ground. I walk past the children's park, I can already see the twisted metal of the swing set, and something suspiciously similar to blood. I didn't want to look.

The pokemart had been decimated, the front half completely blown off, almost like the wind had blown it away and left the other half perfectly untouched. I reach my street and pause, looking over the row of houses, some burning, others nothing but splinters. I can't help notice the blotches of blood along the sidewalk.

My thoughts drift back to whether the people of earth had been stuck in purgatory, now the bland yet peaceful beauty seems like heaven, and this must be hell. Heaven and Hell aren't separate places, they are one in the same, lying inside of purgatory, wearing the nothingness like a skin. A mask for the truth of evil beneath.

Only through regret and retrospect can this be revealed, a change of perspective. That is when hell reveals itself and heaven is lost.

My home had collapsed in on itself, well mostly, the front was no longer structured in fact it is no longer anything more than debris; splintered wood, twisted metal, even the remnants of the large and clunky family TV from the living room. I make my way around the back, and kick down the back door, having forgotten my keys. I figured it doesn't really matter at this point.

The rest of the house looks relatively untouched, the kitchen and most of the upstairs had been maintained; finding myself famished, I walk into my kitchen and open a cupboard and grab whatever is closest, a can of chili. I didn't really want to test the fridge, since the electricity seems to be out. That would be a mess for sure. I eat quickly and breathe out my relief, mom was nowhere to be seen. She'd probably gotten away, she had to be safe, probably hiding out in the woods with the other survivors. If there are any, no, there had to be some.

I'll look after I finish my meal.

That doesn't take long, I decide to explore what remains of my home. The parlor, kitchen, basement, garage, and entire upstairs seem untouched; except the stairs had been destroyed, along with the living room and games room. This is no problem since I can easily climb to the second floor from outside using a ladder from the garage.

I feel the urge to explore the rooms above, for no reason what's so ever. I obviously have time to kill, since no one seems to be around. I walk through the bedrooms of my brother and parents, looking for nothing in particular, pausing a bit at the family portrait in the hallway between our rooms. My brother obviously takes after my father, both obnoxiously blond and energetic, even in the still photo they both seemed to be vibrating, then there was my mom and I, it was obvious who I took after. We both share the same close mouthed smile and large cheeks, however her brown eyes seem to glow with a gentle understanding and kindness, unlike mine.

I stare at the photo for what feels like forever before moving onto my room.

My room is exactly how I left it, my clothes strewn around the room, and my useless junk cluttering top of my desk and shelves. The clothes I had worn the day before rest on my unmade bed.

I had forgotten the existence of the egg entirely, honestly who could blame me. I chuckle to myself, if Barry had found out I left his egg to be amongst the attack of a deadly god he probably would want my head. Or not. It isn't really a situation one is in regularly.

I find myself laughing, hard. It was almost manic in nature, and unlike a normal laugh it hadn't made me feel any better. I grab the egg, and tuck it under my arm. Without another thought I left, grabbing nothing else.

I push away the memories of my childhood; warm memories of running through the halls with my brother at my heels or afternoon naps in the living room and the countless family meals. I take one last look at my home filled with dread and a feeling that I'd never see it again. Without another glance I turn and walk away in silence.

The eerie quiet was broken by a loud crash and the unmistakable sound of breaking wood. I follow the echo of sound, and find a tall thin silver building in its place, then it moved. Upon closer inspection, the "building" became more serpent like, moving its body left and right in sway, mesmerizing yet terrifying. The serpent began to coil its tail under itself, as if it was ready to spring, even coiled the monster is colossal. Standing at almost 25 feet and about as wide as a dump truck and made almost entirely out of metal.

I don't think anything is scarier than a giant snake as wide as a dump truck and made out of metal. Honestly, try and top that; it lunged, fire dripping out of its massive jaws. Missing whatever it was it wanted to hit, the behemoth crashed into a house and basically split it in two. Whatever remained of the house was completely annihilated by a beam of energy, to make it worse the monster used the energy beam like he was swatting at a fly causing the death beam to incinerate chunks of sidewalk and slice homes perfectly in half.

It took me a moment to realize what the beast was aiming for, practically the size of a fly compared to the massive pokemon, Mesprit dashed frantically around trying to avoid the certain death by hyper beam.

"I'd get out of here if I were you," a girl says, the voice is faintly recognizable and calm, as if the battle before us was a common sight. I turn to see someone I hadn't expected, well I guess I should get over surprises at this point.

It was the silver haired girl from the pokemart, the one with the fucked up pants.

I was so shocked I probably said something intelligent like, "Rumaferg."

She ignored me and focused on the battle, Mesprit launched futile blasts of psychic energy into the steelix's belly, but the monster ignored them and leapt after the demon once more.

"Go, Reily," the silver haired girl called out while tossing a pokeball into the fray. The pokemon that appeared is small, standing at a measly three feet. It's bigger than the Mesprit, but dwarfed compared to the steelix. Well so was I, but this pokemon more so.

The pokemon wears a red head dress which pops compared to its thin sickly black skin; long wicked curved claws stretch from its paws, I could only imagine their various uses like slicing open someone's stomach and playing around with their insides. I recognize the pokemon as weavile, the sharp claw pokemon.

Reily the weavile darts towards the steelix, launching shards of ice like knives as it runs. Mesprit is paying too much attention to the 30 foot metal snake to notice the shards of ice, but definitely noticed when one of them pierced its abdomen. Distracted, the steelix is able to blind side the god-like pokemon with its tail, sending it crashing into a nearby house.

The weavile is able to catch up with the steelix and uses the long metallic body of the monster to climb and the monsters head as a springboard to jump, throwing more knife like shards of ice in the process before it quickly prepares its claws to attack. Mesprit blocks the oncoming onslaught of sharpened ice with a psychic blast, but failed to send Reily back with them.

The weasel esq pokemon swings its sharp claws wildly at Mesprit, who scrambles to dodge and avoid the attacks.

"What are you doing?" I ask the girl.

She brushes aside some of her silver hair and smirks, "My job."

"Your… Job?" I say aimlessly.

Her weavile corners Mesprit against a stone wall that once had supported a home, Reily slashes Mesprit across the chest and draws blood, when almost an instant later steelix crashes through the stone wall. Its massive jaws surround the emotion pokemon and prepare to clamp shut, when Mesprit vanishes, popping up an instant later a few feet to the left.

Mesprit sends another psychic blast into steelix's side, managing to somehow knock over the behemoth and cause Reily to scramble away out of fear of being crushed; the monster takes the opportunity to turn on the attacking trainer. The air surrounding us begins to ripple with energy as psychic energy and pours out of the god in waves, debris is levitated into the air before being spun into a twister of devestation.

The Castelian girl's smirk disappeared and her eyes flared in fear, "We should run, like right _now_." She grabs my hand and tugs me along with her, that's when the first car is launched from the tornado; the automobile lands with a heavy crash into a nearby house. She didn't need to pull me after that and I soon matched her sprint; we darted between the ruin of homes, running nowhere in particular.

Her pokemon had recovered and thrown themselves back into the action; the steelix lunges futilely at the teleporting monster while Reily dodges various projectiles and somehow manages to launch counter-attacks at the same time. The two worked in perfect tandem against the god, but Mesprit had gained too much momentum and easily returned their assaults matching them blow for blow.

I clutch my egg tightly against my chest as we slow our sprint to a stop, I take in heavy breaths and focus on not throwing up.

"What… exactly… is… your… job?" I ask between gasps for air. She lets out a steady breath and easily regains her composure.

"To catch that monstrosity," she answers evenly.

"Why would you do that?" I ask."I'm a pokemon trainer," she answers blankly. It became apparent that I wouldn't get any real information from her, because no one in their right mind would try to fight that demon. She reaches for her belt and grabs two more pokeballs and releases the beasts inside.

Soon a humanoid with four arms and an excessively large avian dart off towards battle, launching everything into further chaos; I recognized the avian as a braviary and the humanoid as a machamp.

The braviary swooped in, clawing at the god's back with its talons gaining its attention, but before a counter-attack could be launched, machamp slams its fists into the side of Mesprit sending it sprawling, allowing weavile to close in with another ice attack.

"This is where it gets messy," the girl says. Her pokemon circle the Mesprit, trapping it between them. As if in unison the four pokemon attack, the steelix and machamp launching themselves at the devil while braviary and Reily attack from a distance with a variety of ice and wind attacks. In almost an instant the battlefield explodes, as a super charged psychic blast throws all four pokemon backwards. In the confusion, Mesprit is able to launch machamp with a psychic blast, it soon catches up and forces the muscle pokemon back down with mental restraints.

Its golden eyes glow with malevolence; energy flows freely through the air as machamp writhes in pain.

"Hank!" the trainer girl screams. Hank, the machamp, unleashes a blood curdling wail as more and more energy flows from Mesprit.

One of Hank's right arms began to swell, a bubble had formed in the bicep and inflated little by little with every passing moment. Its screams became louder and more panicked as his muscles were stretched to their limits, Hank kicked out and flailed in despair, throwing punches and reaching out with its other arms trying to do something but accomplishing nothing.

"Terra! York! Save Hank!" the girl yells. York, the braviary, and Terra, the steelix, charge towards Hank in a futile effort. Hank's muscle had stretched too far and the bubble had popped; its arm exploded, spraying blood, shredding muscle, and launching bone shrapnel into the dirt.

Mesprit seemed to smirk over Hank's limp body, shaking off any blood that had sprayed on its coat. We stood in silent horror as the demon turned to face us, its metallic gold eyes stared us down and a complacent smile seemed to form crooked on its mouth. The bastard was pleased with itself. The Castelian girl fell to her knees and began to sob into her hands.

I stood there, dumb with shock, unable to do anything. I watch helplessly as the demon inches its way closer to us and I can feel the bile already rising in my throat. It had stopped not three feet away from where I stood.

I am brought to my knees by a head splitting headache as a raspy voice cuts through the air like a rusty knife, "Until next time."

And just like that the monster was gone.


	3. Speculation

**AN: This is important, I have updated all current chapters/completely re-wrote chapter three. Please re-read so the changes make more sense. **

People always talk about big cities as if they are magical places, and they make it seem like everyone in them are all happy and interesting. These same people brag about how the sounds of the city are beautiful and just listening to the various ramblings at night can easily put you to sleep.

These people are idiots.

The big city isn't a magical place, hell it isn't even sanitary. Trash litters the streets, the stench of urine fills the alley ways, there is always some unidentifiable gunk on the sidewalk, and everything sticks to the bottom of your shoe like glue. City people certainly aren't interesting, the morning and afternoon commutes are examples of this, countless men and women pass each other in the streets, no one says hello or even looks at the man next to them. They just walk uncaring past the homeless, each with their own agendas, almost like drones.

The only interesting people are the pokemon trainers, they always share with the homeless whom they seem to have an understanding with, they openly say hello to each other and are more than willing to give up their agendas and do whatever they damn please.

They live freedom to the fullest and purist extent.

I had gotten to know more of the training community as I had to deal with a newborn pokemon with an appetite of a full grown wailord. You pick things up fast by listening to a braggart trainer at the pokemart, or even from the kind nurse at the pokemon center scolding some newbie.

Until recently I didn't even know that pokemon were smart enough to pick up on the meaning of words just by watching people speak and move. It is very simplistic and infantile in nature, like how babies learn by mimicking their parents, apparently the differences between a pokemon's brain and a human's brain are lower than the similarities they share. The differences boil down to the human's more developed frontal cortex, cerebellum, and neuron count.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy their lifestyle; it must be nice to be free from the confines of society. I often fantasize about being a trainer: I'd leave with nothing but the clothes on my back and Guy at my feet, we would camp out every night facing the stars, and spend our days battling other trainers. Eventually we'd beat all the gym leaders and challenge the elite four or take on the league tournament; I'd be a hero. Recently I've been thinking about this a lot, but the idea of me going around fighting super monsters just seemed so... _ridiculous._

I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing; beating the elite four and being a hero was someone else's job, not mine.

"You call that driving you pale ass honkey?" someone's voice drifts into my apartment, followed by an aggressive honk.

"What did you say you motherfucker? I'll park my foot up your ass fuckhole!" another gentleman replies, shortly followed by a honk. It must be afternoon traffic, boy I just love the sounds of the city.

I flick on the small television in my small apartment, attempting to drown out the cursing simpletons outside. Of course it's the news. I hate the news, it just revolves around politics, making anything and everything they say some angle to get you to vote for their favored party, even if it was about a growlithe puppy that saved little Timmy from a well. Next thing you know little Timmy is supporting **(insert political group here.)**

I never really understood why news told you about local people who died, like why do I care about John down the street, three towns over, that died in a freak thunderstorm? What am I going to do with that information other than be scared of clouds? I didn't know the guy and I see no reason to care about stupid mishaps, it's just so fucking useless. They can just shove their scare tactics into their pleasure holes and get off on how many fucks I don't give.

"It's been three months since the freak earthquake that left the population of Twinleaf Town homeless, with over fifty missing and three hundred bodies unidentified. Our hearts go out to the survivors and the families of the lost," the news woman said. I turned off the television before she could talk about the next upcoming election.

"An earthquake my ass," I mutter to myself.

I looked around my small studio apartment, it wasn't much. My futon lay against one of the walls and a tv decorates the wall on the other end. My kitchen consists of a mini-fridge and a microwave, impressive I know. My dad is covering the rent for me until I can get back on my feet and find a job. Not that I'm really looking for one.

I run my hand through Guy's fur, it is coarse and rough, not really pleasant at all. Especially since my hand is now covered in Guy's sweat; I wipe it off while crunching my nose in disgust, my pokemon really has a water retention problem. I look down at my blob of a pokemon, his fur is a combination of tan and navy blue that grows in wavy patches of coarse and straight hair. His head is oval like and his ears are short and spiked. He stares back at me with a squint of affection.

I stroked him again, finding comfort in it, despite his sweat.

I didn't think a pokemon could sweat so much, but I guess it makes sense since his body is about 55 percent fat, and he is only two feet tall and weighs 231 pounds. With as many rolls this little guy has, I'm surprised he doesn't sweat a solid river stream.

Guy hatched from the egg my brother gave me, it was a little over two months ago, and at the time I found him to be a nuisance. I honestly questioned my brother's sanity, who gives someone a munchlax as a gift? It's just asinine, especially since the little bastard eats three times his body weight weekly, it's a species that could easily eat an owner out of house and home.

I have no idea how he supports his snorlax, which eats quadruple what my munchlax eats daily. And don't even get me started on how many times Guy poops, at least six times a day, and they aren't little shits either.

Guy lets out a yawn and a simple sleepy, "muuunchhh," then he promptly passes out on my lap.

He is more trouble than he is worth, but I couldn't bring myself to sell him. I guess I liked being depended on, taking care of him just helped take my mind off things. I nudge Guy with my hand, he didn't move. I nudge him again, nothing.

I can feel my legs going numb, I nudged him again harder this time. The little fat ass woke up and looked me straight in the eyes before passing out again, so I push him off. He hits the ground with a heavy thud.

That'll teach the little shit.

"Muuuuuu," he whines. I stand and stretch my body, happy to hear the melody of cracks in my back and knuckles.

"Get up," I say. I don't need to look down to know he has already done so. I lock the door of my apartment on the way out. I live towards the top of the apartment complex, in the more secluded and less favorable part of the building. The only other person on my floor is whoever lives in the apartment next to mine. I hear from the landlord that she is an actress or something like that, I'm not sure. We've never met.

Jubilife City attracts that kind of crowd, a bunch of people with the dream to act and sing, stuff like that. Awaiting their big chance or something along those lines, just a bunch of people waiting to be discovered. I never really understood that, people who want fame always go on about a chance of getting noticed, why don't they just make it so they have to be noticed? Why don't they just make their own chances? I make it sound easy, but if it's something you're good at shouldn't it be easy? I think we just limit ourselves and wait for things to happen, without trying to make them happen, instead we make excuses as to why we couldn't.

It took me awhile to realize that I was walking around aimlessly, at least Guy was still at my feet. He looked around with such eagerness, curious of the people around him. I offer him a smile, but he is too busy looking around to notice. I give him a soft kick to recapture his attention and continue onward.

I guess we'll go to the pokemon center since there isn't much else to do; I figure Guy might be hungry anyways. Not many people know this, but the pokemon center will feed anyone's pokemon for free and offer their services to anybody who owns a pokemon. I guess I became what some might call a regular, unleashing my munchlax's appetite onto them for free. It's a pretty cool deal.

The pokemon center is basically the combination of a homeless shelter and a free health clinic, they feed trainers and give them rooms to stay in, as well as supply medical attention for them and their pokemon. It's a government funded program and all the personnel are either hired doctors and nurses or volunteers. So essentially it is all non-profit.

I don't know why they'd set up all this to aid these athletes and their sport since there is probably a bunch of other more worthy non-profit organizations that could use government funding, not like I'm complaining. It just seems odd to me that they would dump billions on a bunch of nobody trainers.

We enter the red roofed building through its sliding doors and are greeted with a hearty hello from a nearby nurse. I returned it with a wave and a nod before wiping my feet off on the entrance mat. Pokemon Centers are bigger on the inside than they appear from the outside; this one specifically has a lounge/front desk area, a fully stocked cafeteria, housing, and of course a medical bay that is almost big enough to be its own hospital.

"Is there anything I can help you with young man?" the nurse asks.

"No, thank you, I'm just here to grab my pokemon some food," I answer.

"Oh ok, if you need anything I'll be around," she says with another polite smile and a nod before leaving in the direction of the med bay. The cafeteria is packed tight with trainers and their respective teams, various odors and noises filled the air. It smells like a strange mix of rubbing alcohol, burnt hair, roast beef, and manure, a pretty strange aroma that I've come to be familiar with.

I let out a long sigh.

"Why the long face cutie pie? ~" a lightly accented voice sings out. I turn to find a nurse hugging my munchlax tightly against her chest. An easy way to describe her would be cute; she isn't very big, probably weighing around 115 lbs. and standing somewhere around 5"2'. She has light olive skin that seems soft to the touch, her hair is a silky brunette, and her eyes are hazel with a strange gentle warmth to them.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hope," I say.

She sends me a look of surprise as if she had just noticed me, "Oh hey Al, what're you talking about?"

"Weren't you just talking to me?" I ask, sending her a look in the process.

"I was obviously talking to Guy~" she says as she begins to pinch at one of Guy's cheeks.

"Oh, of course you were," I say shrugging it off. I watch as she pulls Guy even farther in for one of the death grips she calls a hug, for being so small she has surprising superhuman strength. I have my suspicions that she is actually a human cyborg posing as a human, but no other evidence has shown itself as of yet.

"Don't you have nurse duties to attend to?" I ask her trying to free my pokemon.

"Nope! My shift just ended," she answered back cheerily. I can't help but sigh again.

I look Hope over once again and I can't help but grimace in her general direction, the first time we had met one wouldn't say we'd made a good impression on each other. I'd just moved to Jubilife and she was working at the Pokemon Center the night Guy's egg had begun to hatch. I was in a panicky mess and she was in my way, to cut a long story short I cussed her out and she slapped me, and despite this mutual dislike between us she latched onto Guy for some god damn reason. Probably just to spite me.

"You can stop making faces at me, I know I'm pretty but there is no need to stare," she says with a giggle. I send her a frown and she returns it by sticking her tongue out at me.

"Whatever," I say. Guy lets out a small whine as a trainer with a platter of food walks past us, extending his little paws as best he could in an attempt to grab some, but Hope's grip was iron clad.

Hope caught the gist of what Guy wanted, "I was about to get lunch, would you like to join me?"

I was tempted to tell her no and leave, but that would defeat the purpose of coming to the Center in the first place. Guy's pleading eyes won me over, reluctantly I said yes.

We found a table away from most of the trainers, as soon as we had sat down Guy began to chow down on his multiple bowls of gruel. Hope and I had ordered the day's special, roast beef sandwiches. The grease riddled sloppy brown meat had soaked into the white bread making it a soggy unidentifiable

mush, why include the bread if I was basically going to eat around it? I will never understand lunchroom ladies, not like I really want to.

Hope uses a plastic knife and fork to break apart the meat and separate the bread, I smile as she frowns at her food. It was something new for me to see, since she is usually so perky.

Cautiously she takes a bite, she doesn't spew vile everywhere so I figure it's edible. I eat some as well, it isn't that bad. I mean bland meat can't taste bad, but it can't taste good either.

"So… How is job hunting going?" Hope asks through her meal. I roll my eyes, I was fine eating with her but idle chit chat was something else altogether. I guess it's my fault for telling her I was looking for a job in the first place, but whatever.

"Good," I lied.

"Well that's good, do you have any jobs lined up?" she asks in follow up.

I shrug, "Kinda. What about you?" I ask to change the topic.

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you trying to be a pokemon trainer or something? How is that going?" I clarify. Hope's eyes light up and she re-perks herself up.

"Oh! It's going great! I just finished my basic survival classes and applied for my license last week, I should be getting my training certificate any day now," she says animating the process with a series of strange hand gestures.

"After those come in, I can go pick up my license and I guess I'll start packing for my trip, and then I'll apply to get my starter from the Sandgem Research Center but they only accept requests from really promising individuals," she continues. She starts to explain the merits of each of the starter pokemon offered at the institute and something about how adorable piplups are, needless to say I block her out.

Guy was able to plow through his multiple trays of food and was now scavenging for something else he could eat, he had settled with the table. I watched bemused as my munchlax attempted to knaw himself off a chunk of wood for an after meal snack. I slide him the rest of my roast beef, smiling to myself as he gratefully dug in and practically slathered the meat all over his face.

Hope's voice snapped me back to attention, "So, if everything goes according to plan I should be able to leave in two weeks or so."

"That's great," I say nonchalant.

"You really mean it?" she asks. I give her a nod, it really is great since she won't be able to bother us anymore.

"Thank you~" she says pulling Guy in for a hug.

"But that means I have only a little time left to adore you!" She squeezes Guy even harder and nuzzles her face against his. He receives the affection with indifference and allows it to happen with no resistance; he's probably content from a full meal.

A girlish shriek rings out from across the cafeteria, everyone is startled out of their various conversations and everyone turns to see a boy flailing his arms while running in circles. His hair had caught fire.

"Nurse! Ow, someone! Help?" He cried as others began to laugh. The nursing staff didn't know how to handle the situation and ended up circling the panicked boy. Someone told him to drop and roll, while a couple female trainers snickered to themselves about how the boy was hot.

Eventually, a trainer dowsed the boy with the help of his water pokemon's water gun.

"God damnit Hollow," the boy breathed out, referencing the floating candle stick behind him. The litwick seemed to be enjoying itself until its trainer returned it to its pokeball.

"I thought we had moved past this," he muttered to himself before storming off. The cafeteria returned to its previous calm and the aimless chatter resumed.

"Well with that I think I should take off," I say withholding a chuckle.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to head out too," she says while standing up. In silence we walk outside and face each other at the sliding doors.

"Later," I say.

Hope bends down and grabs Guy into a fierce hug, "Until next time cutie~." She let's go of him and turns to me.

"You better bring him to see me soon, got that?"

I try not to roll my eyes, "Sure."

We part our ways and make for home; a horde of dark clouds had made their way over Jubilife, causing the outside temperature to drop drastically. Soon several trickles of snowflakes fall gently to the ground before melting. I run my hand through my greasy black hair and pull on one of the curls before twirling it around my finger, snow makes me nervous.

Ever since I was snowed in my apartment for a week I've lost all trust in the ice crystals. No more do I view the white powder as a fun play thing or a pleasant surprise, instead I absolutely loathe it. I don't even know what I saw in it, when it fully settles all it is good for is getting in the way and soaking through my socks.

Why is it even snowing? I mean it's the middle of fall. I know that Sinnoh has always been a region of extreme weather conditions, but the fact that it is so cold in fall is just too strange. The news passes it off as global warming or something and no one really cares enough to say otherwise. We've just come to deal with it.

I tighten my scarf around my neck as a shiver goes down my neck and an icy breath leaves my lips. I look down to my side at Guy, he seems indifferent to the weather, almost oblivious to the cold. Lucky bastard.

I cast my hand into my pocket and fish out the keys to my apartment, but as I go to unlock the door I am stopped by a female voice.

"Hello," the voice says. I turn to see a girl and a man.

The dude isn't much to look at, he's fairly tall standing at around 5"11" maybe 6" and is thin and lanky. He has odd orange hair that lays flat against his head, but has fierce brown eyes that are equally intimidating as they are honest. He wears a simple black suit with a nice white button up shirt, out of the corner of my eye I can see the butt of a pistol strapped under his left armpit. He isn't someone I'd fuck with, not even on one of my good days.

Next to him stood a blonde girl. Her physique is obviously lacking, she seems scrawny, fragile, and just really tiny compared to everything else. But her bluish gray eyes looked straight through me, they're the eyes of someone who had seen opposition and easily overcame it. She is dressed strange, even for the city, her body is covered by a knee length navy-blue trench coat, exposing her jeans and kick ass combat boots. Around her neck she wears a black scarf with silver specks on it, on her back was a noticeable case, for some sort of stringed instrument of average length, however I don't think she is the kind of person who would whip out the acoustic guitar and play Kumbaya.

I also couldn't help but notice the sword sheathed at her side.

"Hello," I say wearily. Everything in my being told me to run, to get as far away as humanly possible, but these people were obviously dangerous, one false move and carrot top would most likely blast some holes into me and heaven knows I didn't want that. Guy ignored the scene unraveling before him, instead he focused on a puddle that had formed near his feet.

"Would you happen to be Mr. Russel?" the girl asks.

"Yes, that would be me," I say coolly, playing off the fact that I nearly pissed myself at the sound of my last name.

"My name is Yekaterina Watson, you may call me Watson," she introduces.

"And this is my associate Max Stone," she says motioning to the man besides her. Instead of saying hello or shaking my hand Max just growls at me.

"Well Watson and, uh, Max, what can I help you with?" I ask wishing I hadn't.

"I apologize for not stating this sooner, I am a P.I. that has been hired to investigate the events around the destruction of Twinleaf Town and we believe you have some very critical information on the matter," she says.

"What is there to say? I mean it was all over the news there isn't anything the people don't know," I lie.

"Why would you bother me of all people?" I ask in counter trying to draw attention away from my lie. Max lets out a snort, but instead of saying anything looks in the other direction.

"Are you implying that you weren't a key witness to the events that occurred in Twinleaf Town?" Watson asks pulling out a notepad and a pen.

"Not at all, I just want to know why out of all the witnesses you had to come and bother me?" I ask. She writes a few words down before answering me.

"That is very simple, all the other witnesses have disappeared," she says nonchalantly.

"They what?" I ask barely aware that my jaw had dropped to the floor.

"All witnesses have seemingly been erased, I theorize that it is a part of a government cleanup of sorts, most likely to cover up something that happened in Twinleaf before the earthquake," she clarifies.

"Basically you are the only witness left," she continues.

"How did you know where to find me? Or even that I was a witness?" I ask. Why should I believe this stranger? Everyone disappearing? Government clean up? That's just ridiculous.

"Please don't insult my intelligence, I simply located an old phone book and cross checked it with some recent population reports and from there it became a simple process of elimination, and let me just say your paper trail is a very easy one to follow. Finding you was no problem at all," she answers.

I look at her in disbelief, even glancing at her partner for help. I was half hoping a camera crew would come out of know where and tell me that I've been punked.

I pushed past the nervous knot that had formed itself in my stomach, "So what do you need

Watson pulls out an average sized piece of paper and hands it to me, "Could you tell me what caused this?" she asks.

I look over the picture, it was the remnants of a corpse's arm that had been blown out from the inside out. The familiar sight of shredded muscle and shattered bone caused bile to rear its head in my throat.

"Please don't insult me again and say that this was caused by an earthquake," she says sharp with venom in her voice.

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing. I open the door to my apartment and scoot Guy inside with the side of my foot.

I turn back to Watson, "I think you should come inside," I say.

She turns to Max, "Stay out here and keep guard." He grumbles to himself and hacks a ball of spit on my porch.

The strange girl followed me into my apartment and almost immediately reeled back in disgust, I shrug of the obvious insult and think nothing of it. Sure my place wasn't that clean, with a couple microwave dinner packets lying empty here and there, and yeah I know it isn't much, a simple tv, a futon, a chair, a mini fridge, and even a microwave. I mean it isn't anything bad, well except for that strange earthy smell I can't seem to get out of my carpets. She just seems too prudish for the environment.

Guy takes his place on the only recliner and since I pleasantries had already been thrown out the window I don't feel any obligation to move him.

"Sit anywhere you please," I say before taking my place by leaning against the wall. She idly shuffles her feet before taking a seat on my futon. She scribbles some more words down in her notes.

"So," I clear my throat, "What exactly do you want to know?"

She straightens her back and pats some dust off her knees, "I want to know everything," she says.

I let out a long unsteady breath and run my hand through my hair once again, "Ok."

She sits at attention, pen poised to strike ink on paper and her hand practically twitching with anticipation.

"You're right," I breathe, "It wasn't an earthquake, it was something much, much, worse."

"What was it?" she asks eyebrow raised and interest peaked.

"A monster," I say.

"A… monster?" she repeats, her pen drooping a little in disbelief.

"Yeah, a monster. You see it all started when I went to this party..." I began.

And so I told her the whole story.


	4. Anemia

My words hang in the air and clings to the walls like smoke. Watson, who long ago had ditched her pen and paper, sat in silence. She pinches the bridge of her nose and keeps her eyes clamped shut, digesting what I had told her. She shifts her weight before opening her eyes, the look she gives me is a toss-up of something that resembles both pity and disbelief.

"So…" she says taking a moment to choose her words carefully, "you think that this monster, the Mesprit, is the culprit behind the destruction of Twinleaf Town?"

"You don't believe me?" I ask, visually deflating.

"Of course I don't believe you," she says throwing all sensitivity out the door. I didn't know what to expect, whether she'd believe me or not, but it feels like I'd just been punched; hearing the raw disbelief just_ hurts_.

She stands and pats non-existent dust off her knees, "However, I do believe that you believe you saw a monster. So at least there is that."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She shoots me a look of distaste, "I mean I don't believe that a mesprit went rampant in Twinleaf, but I do believe you do. You see the brain has a mechanism built inside that copes with intense stress, it will make up a story to explain what you are seeing, and you will believe that story as fact."

I slowly nod my head, she seems to know what she is talking about.

She takes a breath before continuing, "The brain will use fragments of truth to form a convincing lie. If I take apart your story and remove the more obvious lies I can thus deduce a likely conclusion to the events. For instance, instead of a psychic blast ripping apart the party-goers it could have easily been a bomb or a land-mine. But it really becomes nothing more than speculation at that point."

"So… I made it up?" I say slowly trying to absorb that concept. Watson offered no gesture to tell me otherwise.

Had a bomb killed them? Was Mesprit really there or was it something else? What could be worse than a psychic god that I would have to use that as a lie?

Do I really know what I saw? That thought didn't sit well with my stomach, I wince as it ties itself into a knot.

Every fiber in my body told me that I had missed something, but what?

"Fuck," I mutter running my hand through my hair again. I'd begun to pace around my apartment at this point mumbling a flurry of curse words as I did so; Guy perked up his stubby ears, taking notice to my discontent he offers a small whine to match my stress.

"I suppose I should take my leave then, I apologize for wasting your time," she says attempting to make her way to my door.

It was then that my mind decided to actually work, other witnesses had gone missing. At least that's what she had said. I need to know what she meant, I need to know if I'm next.

"Wait! You can't leave yet! I have questions for you, I told you my story now it's time for you to tell me yours," I cry out, desperate to stop her. I can feel the anxious energy of panic inch its way up my throat and down my hands causing me to jitter.

She doesn't stop, instead she pushes past me and grabs for the door. Almost out of reflex I snap my arm out and pull her back, turning her around to face me in the process. I hold her there allowing my nostrils to flare in anger and my face begin to heat up.

"Do not ignore me!" I snap.

Her voice is calm and steady despite my rough grip, "You will let go of me right now and you will allow me to leave, unless you are comfortable living a life with only one hand."

"Answer…" I began raising my voice, but the moment I opened my mouth Watson had escaped my grip and swiped my feet out from under me. I hit the ground hard. She whipped out her foot and kicked me in the chest, knocking the air out of my lungs.

I gasped for breath as I writhed on the ground desperately reaching out for something, anything that could help. She slams her foot down on my chest and pins me to the ground, forcing me to stare into her icy blue eyes.

Watson had drawn her foil and held it steady above my throat, "You will _never _touch me again, understood?"

I nod my head slowly, holding in my wheezes so I can do so.

She steps off me and sheaths her sword, "Good." I can't stop the violent fit of coughs that followed, I heaved in pain as my ribs and chest seemed to contract around my lungs. I send a hacked up wad of spit into the carpet before standing up.

"I need to know what you meant, you said that other witnesses have disappeared, well tell me everything. You owe me at least that much," I say while wiping off a glob of spit from my chin.

Watson's face remains stoic but her voice strikes like venom, "I _owe_ you nothing."

"What?"

"As I said, I owe you nothing. We were going to swap information, but you have told me nothing but fantasies. So I have no inclination to give you more information then I already have, that's only _fair. _However, I do recommend seeing a psychiatric doctor of sorts sometime in the near future," she says.

Only fair? She is going to tell me what's fair? She came to _me_. She came to my house and interrogated _me. _She got all of _my_ answers, but denied me hers. Who is _she_ to tell _me_ what's _fair_? None of this had been fair from the beginning!

I clench my fist and hold back the blending concoction of anger and anxiety in my chest. I let out a huff.

"Well, then, what would I have to do to get this information?" I say breathing through my teeth.

"Well, you'd have to provide me with some useful information, not some fantasy you convinced yourself of," she says.

"Fine," I say. I rake through every thought in my head, recounting the event again scanning everything looking for anything that could help me, but I'm drawing nothing but blanks.

"As I thought," she says making for the door again.

"Wait," I plead. There has to be something I'd forgotten, I can't shake the feeling that I had. I replay it once more through my head: the beach, Samantha dies, I pass out, the city is destroyed, and then the Mesprit leaves. What happened after that? I know something definitely happened after that. I can feel the words forming at that the tip of my tongue before I can stop myself from saying them.

"The agents!" I practically scream.

"Who?" Watson asks.

I slap at the sides of my head, punishing myself for being so fucking stupid. How in God's green earth did I forget about this?

"I'm so fucking stupid!" I exclaim.

"Will you please stop having a mental break down and explain to me who these "agents" are?" She asks.

I repeatedly ruffle and smooth out my hair, as if I was try to scratch an itch that wasn't there, and chew over my words.

"It was after the mesprit left," I say. I manage to catch Watson roll her eyes, but choose not to call her a bitch and continue.

"These guys in suits showed up with a whole bunch of firemen, officers, and medics. They managed to find the other survivors and grouped us altogether…" I say before a flood of memories takes over.

* * *

The heat was suffocating, hundreds upon hundreds of hot bodies stood idle next to one another in a circle taking heavy breaths while whispering to their neighbors. We all stood in a flat clearing that was a mixture of dry dirt and dead grass, the emergency responders had set up a perimeter consisting of various vehicles and men trapping us in the middle, while the paramedics and firemen had set to treating the wounded.

I had been separated from the Castelian girl when we had joined up with the main group of survivors, she had ran off with some paramedic in tears while clutching a pokeball to her chest. So I stood alone in the crowd, well unless you count the egg I held in the crook of my arm. I leaned on the tip of my toes and craned my neck as far it would go, desperately scanning the crowd for my mother.

She was nowhere to be seen, probably lost to the horde of scared people. I tried to digest what had happened in the past twenty four hours, but it was just too much to wrap my head around. It left me emotionally raw. The day had started off normal enough, nothing had changed from the day before, so why did this happen?

"Albert!" I hear a woman cry out before I am nearly knocked over with a hug. I'm hit with the familiar scent of apple cinnamon as a head of soft chocolate brown hair nuzzles itself against my chest and begins to sob. In dumb confusion I returned the hug not knowing what to do.

She lets go. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying, but even then they retain a sweetness to them. A kind and gentle familiarity.

She looks just like Samantha.

A wave of nausea washes over me causing my stomach to do a flip and knot itself. I run a hand through my hair and take a step back. She isn't Samantha, she's considerably older, like what Samantha would have looked like in twenty years; it's her mother.

"Mrs. Baker," I mumble. She wipes some stray tears off her cheeks.

"I'm so relieved to see you," she says with a choked back sob and an uneasy smile. I don't know what to say so I nod back at her.

"You and Sam went to the beach last night and I couldn't stop worrying when…" her voice trailed off for a second.

"When everything happened. I didn't even want her to go to the party in the first place, I mean an eighteen year old girl with a bunch of boys? She might come out pregnant!" She exclaimed with a half-crazed giggle.

"But then she told me she was going with you, so I stopped worrying. You guys have been friends since diapers and grew up together, so I figured she'd be safe with you," she continued. It felt like I'd been stabbed in the chest, I tried to not stagger backwards and let out a blood curdling scream.

"I need to stop rambling, I'm sorry," she says. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of this strange pain and assure her that it was ok.

"It's no problem," I choke out.

"Anyways," she says with a wave. "You wouldn't happen to know where Sam is would you?" She asks.

My thoughts drift to the beach, Samantha's head twisted backwards and her body slumped over Patrick's bloody remains. A wave of guilt crashed over me, it weighed me down. I hadn't protected her. I didn't do anything. She wasn't anything to me other than a neighbor, had we even been friends?

I had to tell her what happened to Samantha. I owed her that much.

"We got separated during the party and I haven't seen her since last night," I lie. I couldn't bring myself to tell her. I thought about it and I tried to, but the words just wouldn't form in my mouth.

"Oh," she whispers to herself. I avoid her gaze by looking at my shoes.

"I'm sorry," I say. She says nothing either and follows my eyes, we stare at the ground in silence.

I break it, "You haven't seen my mother have you?"

She shakes her head and furrows her brow, "I'm sorry, I haven't." I wanted to tell her that it was ok, but somehow that didn't feel right so I kept quiet.

The crowd's various conversations had come to a stop and an unsettling silence had befell the group, it was then that I took notice to a squad of men and women sharply dressed in black suits with matching sunglasses. They all stood on a hastily set up stage that consisted of some salvaged cinderblock.

The man I thought to be their leader stood taller than the rest with a microphone in his hand, he was handsome for a man with styled back short black hair, an impressive build, and a great smile. He squares his shoulders before speaking into the mic.

"Hello, I am agent Walters and these are my men," he does a wave over the other agents, they stare forward with their arms behind their backs and legs spread wide; seemingly indifferent to the hundreds of people in front of them.

"We are here to assist in anyways we can and get to the bottom of what occurred here during the early morning hours, to do so we need each and every one of you to recount what happened and answer any questions we have. Various tents will be set up so please form single file lines in an orderly fashion, afterwards we will escort you to a relief center where your loved ones will be contacted. Thank you for your time," he says.

"Who do you work for?" someone yells out.

Agent Walters raises his eyebrow but takes the question, "We are from the Government Immediate Relief Agency or (GIRA) for short and I assure you that we are just here to help."

"What about our homes? Our families?" Another yells.

"That will all come in due time, however now we must fully understand what occurred here this morning, please save all further questions for later, good day," He says before handing the mic to one of his underlings before strolling off the stage to a large tent made of burlap tarp.

The crowd began to disperse and form lines at various tents, with a few people putting it off to scrounge around for food instead. Making use of the opportunity, I took off to look for my mom.

* * *

Watson leaned against my door with her arms folded and eyes closed, as if she had fell asleep during my story.

I swallow my tears with a heavy gulp, "I didn't find her."

"What happened next?" Watson asked. I pushed past the lack of sympathy and forced my emotions back down into my secret inner bottle.

"Well, I got in line and told them my story and just like you they didn't believe me. I was sent to a nearby hospital for treatment, I was told to take these pills but they made me feel groggy and angry, so I stopped taking them," I say rubbing my forehead with my palm.

Watson's interest peaked, causing her to open her eyes and stand at attention.

"Would you happen to remember what you were prescribed?" she asks.

"Uh, BZD? Something like that, it was a large white pill," I say demonstrating the size with my index finger and thumb.

"Benzodiazepine? Why would they prescribe that to a victim immediately after the incident before any symptoms would begin to show? And at such a large dose?" She asks herself bringing her hand to her chin and allowing the idea to churn in her head.

"What? Do you have something?" I ask obviously knowing she does.

"A theory," she says sticking to her thoughts.

"Care to share?" I ask.

She shakes herself out of her deep thought, "Well, Benzodiazepines in large doses tend to cause short term memory loss and through continued doses it can become permanent. It's just a theory, but what if someone wanted you to forget something?"

"Well, I guess I wouldn't remember if they did or not, I was on that shit for at least a month," I say. She slowly nods and bites at the nail of her thumb.

"Anyways, was that information good enough for you?" I ask.

Again, I snap her out of her thoughts, "Well, I guess it will suffice, although I fail to see why these agents were important or why you felt like you needed to tell me about your dead friend's mom, but now I have a hunch."

"So are you going to tell me?" I ask.

"Of course, I suppose I should tell you that not all of the other witnesses are missing. Obviously, there is too many for my associate and I to hunt down, especially with our limited resources and time. So I will restate my prior statement, all of the witnesses that we had managed to track down, for some reason or another, had disappeared. This sums up to be roughly twenty people," she says.

I had to stop myself from lunging at her, she had fucking tricked me, the lying bitch, and now I feel stupid for allowing myself to be so easily manipulated. This girl is a devil and I hope to God I never have to see her again.

"In every case before this one, the victim's homes showed no signs of struggle or any indication to them leaving. At first I thought there was reasonable cause for their disappearances, maybe they were coincidences even, but after the fourth instance I began to suspect abduction. Whoever is taking these individuals they are skilled, not a single hiccup so far, meaning they are most likely ex-military of sorts. Anyways, take that information as you wish and do with it what you will, as of this point onward we are to no longer be involved with one another," she says before finally turning the door knob.

It boomed like thunder; I barely hear the whistling blur of a small projectile before it sank itself into the wall behind me. I stood their stunned, half acknowledging the fact that neither of us had been hit and slowly realizing that we had been fired at. I failed to register the frightened whine of Guy or the panicked scream from Watson.

Acting through my daze I quickly grab Guy and manage to lift the fat fuck before we're tackled to the floor by Watson. She yells something at me and keeps me pinned to the ground, but I can't hear her. I can't hear anything other than the ringing in my ears.

Then everything exploded.

* * *

God, fuck that chick. We spend two months together tracking down sorry sack after sorry sack just to end up empty handed. And the only time, the _only _fucking time, we actually find one of these ass wipes she tells me to stay outside? Seriously fuck her.

And fuck this Albert guy too, he just looks like an A class asshole with his stupid black scarf and dumb pokemon, and what kind of name is Albert? I could just smell the bitch sweating off of him, it probably came from one of his three neck rolls or perhaps from his flabby man tits. I saw the way he looked at me, scrunched up nose, dry smirk, and dull eyes. He thinks he's better than me.

Him better than me? Yeah, that's a laugh. I mean look at where he lives, some ghetto slum with shit stain brown walls and piss yellow doors. The entire apartment building smelled like a toilet and creaked with every step. I wouldn't be surprised if they just leveled the place and replaced it with a something nicer, like a landfill or a crack den.

I have to admit, I'm hurt.

I've worked far too long and hard for her to just ditch me out here while she dealt with whatever she was dealing with. I mean everything that we've been through together and she doesn't even consider my feelings towards it? I'm her bodyguard, not some lowly household help that can be replaced easily with a flick of the wrist, we have a connection. I'm important damn it and she needs to realize that.

Now that I think about it, I don't really know what she is doing. I was only told to protect her, point and shoot at whatever seemed threatening. But instead of doing something cool like blowing holes into a dude, all I've done so far was escort her places and get her things.

Son of a bitch, I'm nothing more to her than an errand boy. I whip my foot out in an angry kick, connecting with a metal rail.

"Fuck," I hiss reeling back in pain. Great, I busted up my toe and it hurts like a mother. The only thing that could make my day now was punching a dude in the face or discharging my weapon, as if that'll happen. Maybe Watson will let me have a go at this Albert person after she's done with him.

I look at the guy's door and send another wad of spit at it. I pull a cigarette out of my jacket's inner pocket, bringing my lighter out along with it. I cusp my palm around the muzzle and spark out a flame, allowing it to caress the tip and light it.

I breathe in a long drag from my cigarette, it feels great, and all my stress seems to be lifted as the smoke filled my lungs. I exhale, allowing the tension in my shoulders to melt away. Whatever anger I felt towards Watson dissipates with the smoke.

The anxiety of going without one becomes too much sometimes and I just sort of descend into a state of bitchy-ness. Feeling better, I readjust the pistol strap under my armpit, shifting my piece to stop the irritable chafing on my ribs. I quickly finish my cigarette and opt for another one.

I glance towards the apartment building, how much longer was this shit going to take?

"Mind if I'm bum one?" a sickeningly sweet voice asks.

"Sure," I growl turning to the source while pulling out my pack. The woman is incredibly beautiful, she has a slim and curved figure; perhaps a bit tall for a girl, standing a few inches under my own 5'11. Her waist length hair is like dusk, a dim black with a hint of blue, its stunning just like the fleeting beauty of sunset. Her bangs framed her face, her skin is pale and her lips pink and soft. She is dressed in a casual sun dress with some kind of flower on it, a bit weird for the winter chill, but I can dig it.

What I can't dig is the huntail around her neck. She wore the pokemon like a feather boa, draping its long, lean, muscular body around her shoulders and neck, allowing her skin to be exposed to its slimy murky blue scales. Various orange barbs protrude from its spine in random curls and spikes ending at the poor bastards square like skull. Due to the shape of its head it is unable to close its upper jaw exposing two sets of curved yellowed fangs, causing the poor shit to look at me dumb with its mouth agape and its milky unseeing eyes forced to stare blankly forward.

This ugly bastard was just predisposed to be hideous, and whatever god made this fucker thought it would be hilarious to make it blind.

Even I know that's just fucked up.

"My name is Valerie, but you can call me Val. Oh and this is Kip," she introduced motioning from herself to her pokemon.

"Max," I grumble, fishing out a light for her cigarette. I can see Val eyeing me up and down as she takes small puffs from her cigarette, she seems like she wants to talk, but I don't feel inclined to do so.

She doesn't pick up on this however, "Do you like pokemon?"

She didn't let me answer, "Because I love pokemon! Wanna see mine?" She whips out a wallet from somewhere and flips out a string of pictures. All of them of the huntail around her neck, a terrifying assortment of selfies, ribbons, and glitter.

This bitch has a few screws loose, but I love a little crazy in a woman.

"Cute," I say through a half-assed grumble and forced smile.

"You think so too!" She says as Kip begins to wriggle itself free from her neck and drops to the ground. Its body writhes and wiggles along the cement before curling around my leg. I try not to kick the ugly bastard as it slithered up my leg and torso before settling on my shoulder. The huntail's disproportionate head swayed left to right, its blind eyes staring my own. I matched its glare, there would be no way that I'd back down to a fucking fish snake thing.

We mad dogged each other, neither of us backed down, this was a battle of wills. Kip broke first, ducking his head and curling it into the nape of my neck, almost like he was nuzzling up against me. Damn right you stupid fish, you know who's the top dog.

"Awwwwwww, he likes you!" Val nearly squeals. I look at Kip then back at Val, how the fuck does she know what her pokemon does or does not like with just a glance? She pulls in her huntail for a hug and redresses him around her shoulder.

"That must mean you're a good person," She says scratching the back of Kip's head. What a laugh, me a good person? Bullshit.

"Yeah, I guess," I say sending a breath of smoke in the huntail's direction.

"So where are you from?" She asks.

I take a long drag and puff out smoke through my nostrils, "I was born in Hoenn, but I moved to Sinnoh for work, due to the job I don't live in one place at any given time so I just travel from town to town."

Val's smile beamed at me with such violent cuteness it caused me to flinch and take a few steps back.

"Does that mean you're a trainer? How long have you been a trainer? What kind of pokemon do you have? Can I see them? I'll show you mine!"

"I'm not a trainer," I say with a touch of venom. Val visually deflates in disappointment, "Oh well that's OK I guess," She says.

"How 'bout you, what do you do?" I ask. She inflates again and sends me another bright smile, "I'm an actress," she says deepening her voice and throwing her hair upwards.

"An actress…"

"Yes, a performer!" She says before sending herself backwards with a pirouette. I watched in utter fucking terror as she began to tap dance and break into song, and cringed at myself because I recognized what she had started singing.

"_You're the one that I want, you are the one that I want, Oo, Oo, Oo, Honey~"_ She sang as she brought her feet back in forth causing a beat with her sick taps.

"_You're the one that I want~" _She twirled herself and leaped forward, dragging her confused pokemon along for the ride, landing on her tip-toes. I felt even worse for the creature.

"_Oo, Oo, Oo, the one I need, Oh yes indeed~"_ She had spun herself out into a knee and finished the last note with enthusiastic jazz hands.

"Holy shit," was the only thing I could say. I mean it isn't every day that a crazy bitch just starts tap dancing in front of me, like how the fuck do I even respond to this shit. Val straightens her hair and stands up.

"How was that?" She asks through a couple hasty breaths. All I could do was stare at her, I couldn't say anything.

"It was so good you can't even talk!" She said with a hearty laugh. I nod quickly and avert my stare, she brings me in for a vice-grip like hug.

"Thank you so much," she says. I push her off me and pat down my suit, smoothing out the new wrinkles.

"No problem," I grumble. Why the fuck did she hug me? We're practically strangers, doesn't she know about boundaries? Just holy fuck.

Val finishes what is left of her cigarette and throws the butt over the balcony to the parking lot below.

"Anyways," she says with another smile, "I should probably get going, I mean I wish I can stay and chat, but I have to get some errands done."

"Uh… It's been a pleasure," I say wondering if it actually has been a pleasure.

She grabs the trim of her dress and bows; she starts as if she was going to leave but stops once more.

"Thanks for the cigarette," She says.

"Yeah, don't mention it," I say.

It happens fast, her blood sprays the coat of my suit and I watch dumbstruck as she topples to the ground; the boom comes as a surprise, jolting me out of my shock. I drop to the floor, sliding over to Val's body, and I draw my pistol.

Val's blood had begun to pool under her, I turn her over and quickly inspect the injury. A two inch hole and punched its way through her shoulder, the impact from the bullet had knocked her out but she was still breathing, which is always a good sign. However, she was bleeding out, and if I didn't stop it soon she's going to die.

I go to tear off a piece of my jacket when I notice inky black shadows crawling out from underneath her body, they began to form putting itself together like a child would connect building blocks. A sickly purple imp thing scurried to the crumpled body and began patting Val with its claw like hands. Kip slithers out from under his master and curls itself into a coil next to Val, either trying to be there for its master or just not caring. I didn't care, I had to act now.

The shadow pokemon finally noticed the bleeding hole in its master's shoulder and frantically tried to cover it with its claws, but failed to do anything but get her blood on its hands. I threw the imp my jacket.

"Wrap that around her arm and apply pressure," I tell it hoping it understood me. I stayed low and began a slow crab walk to the wooden door of the apartment. I held my gun at the ready with my back to the wall, desperately scanning the surrounding buildings for any signs of the shooter.

I reached towards the door knob, my fingers outstretched, slowly making my way inch by inch. I hear the sound of screeching wheels and slamming car doors, I brace myself with hands over my head before bullets pelted into the building. It was chaos as iron rained above my head and loud claps of discharge echoed throughout the inner lobe of my ear.

Whoever these fuckers are they are heavily armed with submachine guns but have no fucking clue how to preserve their ammo. I flicked the safety of my gun off and crouched ready to spring at a moment's notice. Ignoring the immediate death above me, I slide my hand to my belt and grab one of the two pokeballs that held to a clasp etched into the leather.

I enlarged the metallic red and white ball and clutched it against my chest, the once constant clatter had come to a stop and the unmistakable sound of clips dropping to the ground rang out, this was my chance. I leaped to action, firing my gun towards the ten or so men below causing them to scurry for cover. The door besides me is kicked down and out walks Watson with her foil drawn and a pokeball in hand, that little bitch Albert cowers behind her holding his munchlax close to his chest. The dude looks like he just pissed himself.

I shoot Watson a smile, "Ready?" She offers me a nod and straightens her sword making it seem almost like an extension of her wrist. I reload my gun and together we launch ourselves off the balcony, armed and ready to kick some fucking ass.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Watson held me down for what felt like forever, the bullets that rained above us seemed like they would continue to flow for eternity. Guy wiggled in my arms, fighting against the two bodies that kept him pinched between them. My munchlax lets out various whines in discomfort, oblivious to what was happening and only slightly startled by the loud noises.

The ringing had stopped some while ago, but the constant bangs of guns promised that it would return soon. Watson yelled over the heavy fire making her soft voice barely audible, "When they stop to reload I'm going to charge the door and attack, stay behind me and keep low!"

I nodded and held Guy even tighter. The fire had died down and in an instant Watson was on her feet with her weapon drawn and a pokeball in hand. She had pulled it from somewhere within her trench coat. I pick myself up and maintain and iron clad grip on Guy, even though his efforts to get free where tripled. Watson sprints towards my door and kicks it down, I scramble after her.

I watch in awe as Watson and Max jump over support railing with their weapons drawn. I practically crawl out of my apartment as the sound of more gun fire fills the air. I set down Guy next to the door, "Stay here and don't move," I tell him pointing my finger for emphasis.

I steel myself and force myself to stand to see what was happening below; twelve men stood with their backs to two black SUVs unleashing a barrage of bullets towards a bulky green beast. Max and Watson had been separated and are now crouched behind a bundle of parked cars.

They were ignored for the men were exclusively focused on the monster that was currently lumbering towards them. The beast didn't even flinch as bullets pelted its green-armor like hide, various spikes protruded from the back of its diamond like head and shoulders; it easily towered the men standing at nearly seven feet and caused them to back up in panic due to large figure.

It unleashed a throaty roar as wisps of sand shot out of small hole in its hide, the stream whipped out through the air towards the men, smacking one in the chest and propelling him several feet backwards, he hit the ground with a solid **thunk** causing his body to go limp.

The tyranitar poured out more and more sand from within its armor, creating a flurry of sand whips and causing a miniature storm before it. Chaos struck the men as their visibility fleeted, they separated from one another and stopped firing.

Watson took advantage of the confusion and rolled her pokeball under the cars like a trained soldier would a grenade. A burst of light farther disrupts the battleground as a two foot bipedal feline creature burst into the scene. It stood like a human would, with its shoulders slack and its hip outward. The pokemon ran a paw along its fine white and navy blue fur, poofing its tail in the process.

"Animus, use Psychic on those men," Watson demanded pointing towards the gun men. Her meowstic rolled her eyes but darted towards them with its eyes glowing.

Animus lifted two men in the air and slammed them together, making their guns drop to the ground and their bodies go limp. She discarded the unconscious bodies by tossing them at the two parked SUVs.

Max had opened fire on the men, causing three to drop to the ground almost immediately with precise non-fatal shots. The few remaining men retreated to behind their vehicles and just barely managed to keep Animus away with rapid fire and force Max to take cover behind the tyranitar.

A scream rang out, it was familiar to me; it sounded like pure white hot pain. The source was a bloody pulp of a girl that happened to be only three feet away from me, how I hadn't noticed before I don't even know.

A purple creature stood hunched over the body, shakily holding a dark piece of cloth against the girl's upper torso. The girl began to squirm and cry out, "Help… ah… someone…. Help," she begged.

I slide over to her, pushing past the little imp and taking the blood soaked jacket from it. I toss it aside and inspect the wound, she'd been shot. The bullet had passed right through but left a large bloody hole in her shoulder, I tear off my scarf and lift her arm. I wrap it tight around the wound to stop the bleeding, it then tie it like one would a make shift sling.

"I'm here for you," I tell her trying to get her to calm down. She is in a fit of huffs now, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Her sundress is covered in blood and her dark hair is matted in it, she's lost so much. I crouch next to her and help her to a sitting position against the wall.

"I.. I don't wanna die," she say through heavy sobs and painful breaths. I hold pressure against her shoulder and look her in the eyes.

"Don't talk, save your energy," I say. Her imp scurries to her side and takes hold of her hand. The girl looks down at her pokemon and meets it metallic silver eyes and gives it a small smile.

"Hydrangea, don't worry, go… go help," she says through a breathless breath. The imp offers her a hand a soft pat before draping itself in shadows and disappearing. She uses even more energy to garb her discarded purse and fish out a pokeball.

"Kip, return," she says returning a turquoise and orange coiled snake to the ball.

I have to focus on the girl bleeding out in front of me. I have no idea what to do next, I've never tried to save a person before and I don't really have a medical degree. I'm just so fucking clueless.

"Just stay still and calm down, help is on the way," I tell her, lying through my teeth. It doesn't matter because she had passed out again.

Another scream pierces through the clatter of gun fire, but this time it isn't from our side. I stand to see a man being dragged away by a bundle of shadows, they solidify to form a familiar purple imp. The pokemon bites down on the man's neck spraying blood from the open vein, the pokemon's once purple skin is now drenched crimson with blood.

Hydrangea leaves the man to bleed out and tackles another to the ground, scratching at his face with its wicked black claws drawing more blood. The imp then guts the man's belly, dragging its hands through his stomach and pulling out his small intestine; following it up the imp leaps at another man chomping down on his throat and with a jerk of the neck tears it out. The little demon had killed three men in a matter of seconds. Getting their act together the gun men fired at the beast, but before anything could connect it dissipated into shadowy smoke while cackling to itself.

Max takes the opportunity to dash forward and Animus follows suit. The psychic and the badass tear through the remaining forces, with fast decisive shots and brutal psychic blasts. Watson hops into one of the SUVs and starts up the engine, while Max returns his tyranitar to its pokeball and sprints up to our floor. I grab the girl's purse and stuff the pokeball in it before I put the strap over across my chest.

"We've got to get out of here, _now_," he growls as he holsters his weapon and takes an arm of the unconscious girl. I carefully take the other and we lift her up, supporting her weight with our shoulders. We drag her along with us, taking her down a couple flights of stairs and forcing her into the back of a waiting SUV.

"Guy, get in," I order my pokemon. He climbs in after the unconscious girl, Max jumps into the passenger seat and I snuggle myself into the back.

Watson doesn't even wait for me to close the door before peeling out like a professional race car driver and heading towards god knows where.

"What the fuck just happened?" I practically scream.

"We were attacked," Watson responded.

"No, fucking, duh," I yell.

"Who fucking attacked us? And why?" I ask running my hand through my hair.

"I have no idea," she says.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, just _fuck_," Max growls as he looks back to the bleeding girl.

"Do you know her?" Watson asks him, her face stoic and focused on the road.

"She was just some girl, she bummed a smoke off of me, her name is Val," he grumbled lighting up a cigarette.

"Well, this girl, Val? She needs to see a doctor right now or else she's going to die," I say.

"We can't take her to a doctor," Watson says.

"What the fuck do you mean we can't take her to a doctor?" Max asks blowing smoke at her.

"If we take her to a hospital they're going to ask questions that we don't have the answers too, and we'll practically be sitting ducks if that sniper decides to comeback," She says. It makes sense, although I don't know anything about snipers, it doesn't seem like a favorable situation for us to be in.

"Then what? We just let her fucking die?"

Watson doesn't answer.

I start speaking before I can properly think about what I'm going to say, "I think I might know someone who can help."

"Who?" They ask in unison.

* * *

**Author's Note: So let me just say this: HOLY FUCK THAT WAS A LONG CHAPTER AND I HATE MYSELF FOR WRITING THIS MUCH IN A CHAPTER. I haven't written a chapter as long as this one before and I have to say my emotions are a bit both ways on this chapter. I felt that the beginning was good, the intro of Max was good, but the ending was weak. It irritates me a bit so I might go back and add more stuff to it later. IDK as of now. **

**Anyways, I'm sorry for taking so god damn long to update. I hope people are still reading this and are enjoying the updated version of this story. I think it's a lot more polished than the version before and I'm happy with it as a whole. **

**Again, I apologize. **

**Review what you thought and all that jazz and feel free to message me about any questions you may have relating to the story. Uh…. I can't think of anything else to say? **

**#checkoutmymixtape**

**-Tru**

**P.S. Val belongs to MimzyWhimzy, Max belongs to Wolfgirl12390, Hope belongs to , and Watson belongs to Edgewurth. ( I also apologize for the Watson hate from the other characters, I just thought since both males are assholes they'd kinda just act that way? She is like my favorite Oc introduced so like yeah.)**

**P.s.s Can some one explain what a community is to me? **


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